It's Alois Sunny in Philadelphia
by Prayer Machine
Summary: Frank Reynolds becomes Alois Trancy's new demon butler.
1. Chapter 1

"Oh, oh, oh _Claaaudeee."_

Alois was a sobbing mess on his hands and knees. His face was a blur of red and snot and tears. Words dribbled out of him like saliva, just a constant, wet repeat of his butler's name.

Claude was lying, face down, in the chip pan. His body was slumped, lifeless. And he had a huge sword jammed into his back.

He was dead. He was definitely dead.

"You said you'd never leave me," Alois said without a drop of anger. Another loud howl spewed out of him, the wail merging into a fit of coughing. This wasn't right, this wasn't right, this wasn't right and it was all _**her fault. **_

And there she was, there she _fucking _was. Standing at the door like a helpless little fairy, with her delicate little hands clasped as if she was a fucking child. She even gasped. Who knew, who knew that her pathetic, housebroken demeanor was all an act?

"You, it's _**you**_…" Alois hissed through a glut of phlegm. He slowly rose to his feet, legs shaking as he stared at her.

"Master… What ha-"

"SHUT UP," he shouted. "Just shut up, just shUT UP." He walked forwards, speeding into a run as he approached her and grabbed her by her stupid hair. Digging his nails as deeply as he could into her scalp, he wished he could stab right through her skull and right into that dumb little treacherous brain of hers. "Get out, get out, _get out _and don't _look at him_."

She was squealing. Struggling, even. "You think you don't deserve this punishment, hmm?" He felt sick all over, sick, sick, sick. He was alone. He was always going to be alone. Even Claude, even _Claude _had betrayed him by letting himself get stabbed in the back. What an idiot! If only he could see the look on his own greasy face! "What, what do you want me to praise you, think you did well for _saving me _or whatever stupid little game is going through your head?"

"Master, Luka wo…"

"NO, FUCK OFF." He slammed a boot into her gut. Again. A couple more times. She still whined and gargled and _complained_ making all that pathetic, pathetic _noise. _"You don't get to see Claude and you don't get to say _his _name. No one has that right! No one!"

He slammed her head into a door, threw her into a vase, chucked her basically anywhere. But no matter how many little cuts she got. No matter how much her forehead drenched her in blood. No matter what he did she was still making all those dumb noises and was still better off than _Claude. _He should have gone back. He should have ripped the demon sword out of his back and corkscrewed it right into her fucking eye.

Wrenching the door open to the front of the mansion, he finally threw her out.

"Go on, go on, just _go."  
_  
Hannah looked back, remorsefully, almost. "Master, I …"

"And take your stupid _gingers _with you," he yelled, before slamming the door shut.

Leaning against it, he collapsed to the floor. Crawling, and slipping, and eventually walking - he made his way back to the kitchen and back to Claude.

There's no one else, now. 

* * *

The woods were full of singing things and dust.

Skipping, Alois noticed how small the trees looked, now. Spider webs wrapped around his fingers, thick and soft and fuzzy and gross. Morning light shivered through the woods, dew reflecting the soft orange light. A blazing circle met his face, a spider web so thick with dew that it felt wet and horrible on his skin.

"Hoheo Taralna, Rondero Tarel."

Claude would remember that song. It was his song. This was all his.

"Hoheo Taralna, Rondero Tarel."

His body was starting to stink, and not just of grease. The wound in his back was festering.

"Hoheo Taralna, Rondero Tarel."

It was time to come back. He'd had his break. Now it was time to come back and clean up that fucking kitchen.

…

"Hoheo Taralna, Rondero Tarel."

It wasn't going to work. He knew it wasn't. He knew this was stupid and that Claude was dead and always would be dead and that he probably deserved to be dead but…

"_Hoheo Taralna, Rondero Tarel._"

Suddenly, the woods filled with a bright, impossible light. The smell of alcohol burned in his throat, and he gasped, suffocating. He felt a hand on his shoulder, words awakening in his ears.

"Alois! I'm sorry what happened to Claude, but I'm gonna be yer new butler now," said a short, plump man with too much body hair.

"Who the fuck are you?"

"I'm Frank. Frank Reynolds."


	2. Chapter 2

It was dark, and it was cold, and there was this stupid, fat moron following him back to his house. He stank of disease and… just… alcohol and other stenches that Alois couldn't even label. And he wouldn't _go away, _no matter how many times he told him to and no matter how many rocks he threw at him. He just kept following him like a stupid joke.

"Hey kid, come on, you gotta talk to me if I'm gonna be your butler."

"_Fuck off_!" Alois twirled on his heel, kicking some shit out of the way. "I don't even _want _you as my butler."

"Alois, I know you loved Claude but -"

"Loved him?" Alois snapped, starting to dribble out laughter. "Loved him?! You don't understand anything at all!" He extended his arms, waving them a bit. "I hate him! He fucked off, just like everyone else! Now why don't _you?" _He sighed, glancing away before snottily hissing, "It's not like you'll stick around for long, anyway." Alois lifted his head, dangerously focusing his eyes on the little pig. "You just want Claude's sloppy seconds, don't you?"

There was a long silence then, well… apart from the annoying birds that never shut up anyway, and the stupid howly wind. Frank seemed to just shuffle about on the spot. Which was completely fine with Alois - who turned around to get away from that moron. Maybe he'd just stay there forever, stunned by his incredible deduction.

But, no. Of course not.

"So where's the stiff anyway?"

"...What?"

"Claude's body! His corpse, you know?"

Alois' nails scraped against his palm. "Why the hell do you want to know that?!" Frightened rabbit eyes filled his face. "Don't touch him… you can't touch him." He walked backwards, stumbling slightly. "Please, just _go away_. Leave me alone!"

"Can't do that kid. I'm yer butler." Frank shrugged. "I gotta clean up that mess, simple as that. Now just take me to him.."

"_No!" _Alois started running then - all the way up the stone steps and barging through the door. Slamming it behind him, he gasped for breath before making his way back down into the kitchen. Sighing in relief when he saw the familiar black shape hunched over the chip pan, he wandered over and clapped Claude on the back - trying to ignore… well… whatever that was coming out his back.

"Holy crap!"

Alois recoiled, suddenly seeing Frank by the kitchen sink. He was out of breath and sweating from every pore in his skin.

"That dude's dead as shit!" He shrugged, frowning and wrinkling his nose at the body. "How long's he been in here? You shoulda cleaned this out ages ago!" He lifted a brow, looking accusingly at Alois. "You can't be collecting bodies. You'll get rats. Vermin!"

"Shut up!" Alois moved in front the corpse, eyeing up the stout demon. "Shut up, you don't know anything! He'll come back. He always comes back." He grabbed his arms, rubbing them. "And so what if there's one corpse in the kitchen. I can't even cook anyway. This room's useless."

Frank sighed. "I know you're in denial kid, but you really gotta think of the big picture. A kitchen's no place for a body! Claude deserves better." He nodded his head. "We'll toss him out in the trash."

"W..what?"

"Yeah. It'll be nice and cozy and remind him of his life."

Alois almost laughed at this, but covered it up as a snort. "What's a trash?"

"What, you've never hearda trash before?" Frank suddenly grabbed his head. "Ooooh of course, it'll be one of those bilingual things. I mean… rubbish, you know?"

"Rubbish? You want to put Claude in the bin?!" Alois glowered. "Just how stupid are you?" He suddenly jerked back towards Claude, putting his hand on his shoulder. "I'm not putting my Claude out in the bin. He deserves to stay in here, to remind himself of how much of a stupid, idiot failure he is."

"Have you even had a funeral for him yet, kid?"

Alois froze.

"Yeah. Who's the disrespectful one now? Come on. Let's go just put him in the trash, say a few words and let him rest in peace. We can even get a couple of beers after." He spread out his palms. "Girls!"

For whatever reason, even through a huff of annoyance, Alois slowly started to nod his head.

"... Alright. Fine."

Frank waddled over, reaching out and putting his grubby hand on that ugly, bastard sword. Alois shuddered, before quickly shuffling away from the scene. Covering his mouth with his hand, he ran out of the room. Barking over his shoulder, he yelled, "Tell me when you're done." 

* * *

Alois was sobbing and inconsolable.

Claude was dead, as usual.

Frank was dusting his hands, stretching a bit. Finally he bent over with a groan, picking up the corpse and hurriedly stuffed him into a large dust-bin. Alois groaned out something incomprehensible as Frank slammed the lid down.

"You wanna say something, kid?"

Alois shook his head.

"Alright, guess I'll do the honors." Frank stretched again, clicking his bones. "Claude was a fine demon. Really great guy. I actually knew him back in demon school, and there's a lot of stories I  
could tell about that. But I'm not gonna, because there's kids about."

"Anyways, he got stabbed makin' fries. That's a shame because he's probably good at makin' fries. Right, Alois?"

Alois nodded his head, despite not knowing why exactly the man was calling them fries. "He made good fish too."

"Yeah, fish and chips. He was real British. Stiff upper lip and all." Glancing back at the dustbin, Frank rolled his eyes back and thought a little bit. "There wasn't much Claude was bad at, except not getting stabbed. Amen."

Alois howled and Frank knew he'd done his job right.

"Now… the beer." Grinning, Frank waddled back towards the manor - Alois following after him like a squeaky tire.

"You ever drunk a beer before?"

Alois shrugged, "I've had wine…"

"What are you, a fag? Here, take this." He tossed Alois some weird tin, who then just stared at it like it was fucking Jesus coming out the toilet.

"Look kid, do you not know how to open a can? Here, come here. I'll show you." Frank patted his knee, and Alois rather ruefully stood away from it - but passed him the tin back. "Look, I'm sorry I called you a fag, kid. You can be whatever you want to be, and I ain't got anything against homosexuals. But listen, you really gotta get drunk." Popping open the tin, it made a weird hissing noise and then some foam came out.

Alois took a step back, staring at it, before sticking his tongue out. "It's fizzy, like champagne."

"Yeah, just like champagne." Frank said, passing him the can.

Shaking it a bit and raising a brow, Alois finally took a small sip. Spitting it out, he laughed. "And it tastes like piss. Just like champagne."

"Yeah… yeah it does." Frank agreed, downing his can. "But you gotta drink it. To be strong. And you gotta be strong without Claude around, right?"

Alois twitched. "I thought you were going to be my butler?"

Slamming his can down, Frank pointed at Alois. "So, you do want me to be your butler. That's great, kid." He leaned back, smirking a bit. "Knew we just needed to freshen up this kitchen a bit. Clear the air."

"Anyways, if you want me to be your butler, we gotta make a contract. You know how it goes."

Alois tasted the beer again, this time sipping it for a little longer. "I'm not just going to do that. You gave me piss to drink. I think you're a shit butler. And you'll never be my Claude."

"Let me show you!" Frank finished his beer, standing up. "Take me to your room."

"Ooh, you want that, do you?" Alois coldly eyed him. "Sleeping with me isn't going to make me like you."

Frank blinked at him through his spectacles. "What you talkin' about? You think I'm a kiddy fiddler? A pedophile? How old are you, kid?" He stomped up behind him. "And why you wearin' boots like that, anyway? Clip clop clip clop, like a whoor down an alleyway."

"I'll be fifteen in two months!" Alois said defensively, clip clopping away ahead of the man. "What do you want with my room, then?"

"Redecorating!" Frank smiled. "It's what I'm good at."

Leading the little creep up the stairs, they eventually reached the door.

"Go on then…"

A few minutes later, Alois peeked in through the door.

"What… what are you _doing?"_

There was trash everywhere. Literal mountains of _rubbish everywhere. _All his clothes were scattered. His bookcase was broken in and ruined. His bed… his bed was covered in _newspaper. _There was… was that catfood? Why was there catfood and why was Frank _sleeping on his bed?_

Jumping up, Frank glanced around, yawning. "Sorry kid, hauling that dead butler of yours really took one out of me." Grinning, he spread his arms. "So what do you think of the place?"

"Think of it… Is this some kind of a joke?"

"Naw. Look! I even put all your little knickknacks in the trash."

Alois squirmed, "No, but, why?"

"Because your room had too much space in it. It was fogging up your mind. This is proper city living. Come and join me in the trash. You'll see."

Alois smirked a little, stepping over… god knows what, before sitting on the edge of the newspaper bed with Frank.

Leaning his head back, he glanced around this room. This room. _This _room.

And _laughed._

"It looks like a rubbish dump!" He giggled some more, flopping his head back into the rustling bed. "Like a proper shithole!"

Frank nodded his head. "Yeah." Glancing down at the kid, he noticed the light sparkling all in his eyes. "So. You wanna make a contract?"

Alois looked down, fumbling a bit with the edge of his vest. "Yeah. Alright."

"Cool," Frank said and Alois frowned. Frank lifted up his beer can, shaking it and smirking. "Put out your arm."

Alois warily extended an arm into the air, allowing Frank to roll up his sleeve. Suddenly, the demon pressed the can onto his skin. It _did _feel cool.

"Abra cadabra or some shit." Frank said, and when he pulled the can back, there was suddenly a contract mark - shaped like a pistol.

Alois sat up, poking at it and grinning.

"Now, that's much cooler than Claude's homo flower, right?"

Alois burst out laughing at this, nodding enthusiastically when suddenly a flash of light interrupted their moment and emerging from the trash was a spooky ghost or something.

"The smell in here is abysmal." The ghost, who was in fact a man, adjusted his glasses. "I thought this was where the dead demon was being kept, not the live one."

"They don't pay me enough for this," he drawled.


End file.
